


All Tangled Up

by Nessarin_the_greatish



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, Everything goes wrong but also right, Fluff, He plays lacrosse, Jock Soren, M/M, Marcos is a chaotic gay, So is Soren, Tdpsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessarin_the_greatish/pseuds/Nessarin_the_greatish
Summary: Two chaotic gays ft. Christmas





	All Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

> For @gayprinces I hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing this! Merry Christmas <3

Soren was a hard worker, to say the least.

 

He was taking a course in law, not exactly by choice, another in theatre and decided it would be a good idea to join the lacrosse team. Marcos had only admiration for him, wondered how he wasn't a walking corpse.

 

Instead, his toned muscles and floppy hair and smile remained illuminous, like a full moon amongst speckles of stars and— Marcos didn't want to admit it, but he was smitten. Just a bit.

 

And in being his roommate for over four months already, they had established their witty banter, binged Studio Ghibli together, with their legs tangled beneath blankets.

 

Marcos would make him breakfast, and Soren would try, and they'd laugh and gossip and play stupid pranks.

 

Amongst all the peace, the quiet night, came the blaze of an all too hot sun, of the blinding day that shed light on the reality of college life. Outside their bubble.

 

But in the end it was fine, they had each other. And their friendship…or whatever it was. On the brink of being something more. Someone only had to break the boundary that had been built up.

 

And it was during that magical Christmas season that something did.

 

-

 

“Marcos! I've got class and a lacrosse thing to go to, but I'll be back before seven!”

 

Still in bed, Marcos could only be bothered to let out a muffled grumble in reply, shifting his position to face the door.

 

As he always did, Soren cracked open the door, gave a wave, and eased it shut once more. It had become habit, something Marcos grew to expect. And something he adored.

 

Just the thought of it, of _him_ left a dopey grin on his face.

 

Marcos yawned, stretching out his muscles and basking in the warmth that covered him for a moment longer. Thought about the dream he'd had.

 

It came flooding back, one part, the only important part, clear in his mind. Soren's lips against his, a caged animal for a heartbeat and butterflies battling it out in his stomach.

 

How his brain loved to taunt him. The previous night he had been in Soren's lap, as if it were a daily occurrence. He both baffled by the situation and desperate to be even closer.

 

Funny how the mind worked. Huh.

 

After contemplating his not so subtle dreams, Marcos got up, trailing towards the kitchen.

 

On the kitchen counter, was the only thing Soren knew how to make without burning it, with a note on the side.

 

_Be a big strong boy today, with the help of Soren's ultra nutritious smoothie_

 

_But seriously eat something or perish <3 _

 

If anyone saw how wide Marcos was grinning, he was sure they'd think he was a maniac with a sadistic murder plot in mind.

 

That wasn't it though. It was just, Marcos _desperately_ wanted to get closer with Soren. So he came up with a plan.

 

\--

 

Sleep deprived as ever, Soren only realised he was wearing the wrong jumper on his way to class.

 

Christmas jumper day was an annual event, where for one day of the year the campus was snowmen and festive colours galore.

 

At the abrupt realisation, Soren grew hyper aware of the soft fabric that clung against his frame.

 

_Oh shit._

 

There was no going back now, but the fragrance Marcos carried around him became all the more noticeable. Would he be able to survive the whole day?

 

“Soren!”

 

He glanced over his shoulder and gave a wave to Corvus, who was jogging towards him. He was also wearing a jumper, though its colours were muted and pattern minimal.

 

“Hey…isn't that Marcos’?” Corvus eyed it with a smug smirk plastered to his lips.

 

 _Shit_. Soren hadn't even survived two minutes.

 

“Well…I uh…” he was short circuiting, tripping over his words while he scoured his brain for some sort of solution. “We…traded?”

 

Apparently that was a horrible answer, because Corvus had to bite his tongue to hold in his sniggers. The shaky shoulders were a dead giveaway.

 

After the laughter subsided Soren let out a sigh and took a seat. When he turned around to look at Corvus once more, he was still grinning.

 

It really was going to be a long day.

 

\--

 

Marcos was astounded at how hard it was to find a Christmas tree.

 

He had searched high and low, went across town, but none were exactly up to scratch. It was 3 o'clock by the time he found the perfect one.

 

Only it was tiny. Marcos didn't have time to be picky however, he was behind schedule, so he settled for the miniature tree. He'd already gathered lights and ingredients for butter pancakes, now all he had to do was get back to their apartment and set it all up.

 

What could possibly go wrong?

 

\--

 

Everything was going wrong for Soren. His dad had showed up midway through lacrosse practice, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than the sweet release of death to take him.

 

Then, as if God himself had answered his call, Soren was hit in the face with a lacrosse stick.

 

He stumbled backwards and landed head first into the soil. The green grass had wilted away, with only the dried mud to cushion his fall.

 

Whether or not he had actually blacked out or was just refusing to open his eyes was hard to tell.

 

“Soren?”

 

With the aid of someone's hand, he carefully lifted his head up. It was throbbing slightly. 

 

“Marcos?” He said, sure that the hands resting on him were his, leaning into them with a lopsided grin.

 

“Wh— it's your father, Viren.”

 

His eyes flew open and all at once he was light headed again. _Ew_.

 

“Oh— um. Hey dad—”

 

“—Let's just get you back to your apartment.”

 

Soren gave a nod, clutching his head.

 

“OK.”

 

-

 

The walk back was embarrassing to say the least. The silence deafened Soren's ears, and when he glanced over to his dad, he was met with a frown.

 

Shit. He had screwed up so badly.

 

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he muttered to himself, eyes trailing over all the lights and decorations that were strung up around campus.

 

“What?” said Viren.

 

“What? I said… scary ducklings listen to me. That's what I said. Yeah.”

 

Viren scoffed. “We'll get your head checked out soon I suppose.”

 

“Sure.”

 

\--

 

This was turning out to be a disaster. Marcos had burnt ten pancakes now, the candles he had bought were no use without a lighter and he still needed to decorate the tiny tree.

 

What was supposed to be a romantic gesture was actually a mess, and Marcos was this close to falling apart. Upon looking at the time, _5:50pm_ , a thought struck him.

 

 _Lights!_ If all else failed, at least he could put up the Christmas lights he had bought. Somehow, that rejuvenated his spirits.

 

Marcos dug them out of the box of things he'd acquired that day, spreading out the wires all around him and completely forgetting about pancake number eleven.

 

“Shit.” He glanced over his shoulder, nose struck by the smell of a pancake that was probably blacker than his coffee.

 

Without thinking, he plugged in the lights, and tried to rush over to the burning stove. _Tried_ , because all at once he was falling, tangled up in the lights.

 

Up until that day, in that wonderful season of happiness and miracles, Marcos was unaware of just how badly he was able to fuck things up. Was he _always_ this incapable?

 

\--

 

“Soren, I just realised, that isn't your jumper? I'm sure Claudia gave you one to match with hers.”

 

Soren groaned internally, thanking the heavens above that they were approaching his apartment. _Finally_.

 

“No dad, it isn't. I—”

 

“It's your roommate’s one. That name that you called out? Marco? Mark? Martin?”

 

He groaned aloud this time.

 

“Firstly it's _Marcos_ , and secondly, we're here now so please, I can open the door by myself.”

 

“Oh…” Viren gave a slow nod. “Just wanted to make sure you, remained conscious.”

 

At that, Soren gave a tired smile, opening his door.

 

“Thanks da—”

 

His head grew light again when he was greeted with a very defeated Marcos, tangled up in lights that flashed red and green on the floor.

 

“Uh…” he said, to no one in particular.

 

“I'll…leave you be then.” With that, Viren left.

 

Soren took a timid step into the room, easing the door shut. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking at.

 

“Hey, Marcos?”

 

A grumble.

 

“It's Soren. Are you…dead, or something?”

 

Another grumble, silence, and then—

 

“Wait— shit, what— no no no—” Marcos sat upright, as best as he could, eyes darting across the room, and very noticeably avoiding Soren's gaze.

 

But Marcos was all he could stare at. For even in his extremely chaotic state, he was beautiful, shrouded in lights…lights which he most definitely should not be entangled with.

 

“Do you uh…need any help with…all that?” He raised a brow, gesturing towards him.

 

Marcos gave a nod, eyes fixed on Soren's as he knelt down and began to untangle the knots Marcos had mysteriously created.

 

The air between them was quiet, only their breathing, which had fallen in sync and the faraway tinkle of Christians songs. If Soren listened hard, it resembled the melody of _All I Want For Christmas._

 

“So, um—” Soren cleared his throat—”How the fuck did you manage to get yourself in this position Marcos?”

 

\--

 

Gay and dumb are two adequate words to describe Marcos’ actions that day. Or any day really, but especially that day.

 

“It was…”

 

Soren’s lips curled up into a smile. “It was…?”

 

Marcos squeezed his eyes shut and the words began to tumble out, whether he liked it or not, it seemed.

 

“It was you.”

 

“What?” Soren's face fell. ”I'd never do something so mean to you man, plus I was at practice so— oh shit was it my evil twin or somethin—”

 

“You didn't do it Soren, you _made_ me do it—”

 

“—Why would I make you burn our kitchen stove and tie yourself up in Christmas lights? I'm feeling pretty attacked right now bro—”

 

“—Dude! I tried to make your favourite food and decorate our place all nice because, well, I like you, in a ‘we're more than just bros who cuddle and watch Studio Ghibli’’ way!”

 

Marcos exhaled. Fidgeted with his hands. Glanced up at Soren.

 

Soren, who set down the knot he had yet to untie. And Soren, who leaned closer. Soren, who smiled and rested his hand on the back of Marcos’ neck.

 

Then, Marcos took one last breath, closed his eyes and closed that stupid, unnecessary gap between their lips.

 

And then they were kissing.

 

It was something soft and timid and something Marcos wanted to last forever, and yet Soren pulled away first. Hadn't got the hint apparently.

 

He rested his head in Soren's shoulder, and mumbled, “Wait, don’t pull away…not yet.”

 

“But, the lights…Marcos…babe…”

 

If Marcos wasn't OK before, the pet name did nothing to help him. His knees were weak and he was sat on the floor.

 

He clutched at Soren's shirt, biting his lip to contain his grin.

 

“OK, OK, but please be quick about untying me.”  He lifted his head from Soren's shoulder, cheeks prickling with heat.

 

“Maybe it would be faster if you helped,” pointed out Soren. “How the hell do you get this tangled up in the first place?” He said the words with a softness that only came out rarely. Hopefully, Marcos would be seeing that side of him more often.

 

“I have no idea if I'm being honest.” He really didn't.

 

Then, for the first time since Soren had arrived, he realised what jumper he was wearing.

 

“Actually, Soren?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Why are you wearing my Christmas jumper?”

 

Red painted his cheeks.

 

“Well…I am just, that gay for you.”

 

That didn't seem like a legitimate answer, but at that point Marcos was past caring because—

 

“Me too.”

 

\--

 

After that day, Marcos was convinced Christmas miracles could happen.

 

All you'd need to carry out the ritual was a bunch of flashy lights to get tangled up in and your very chaotic and gay self.

 

Only then, could the real magic happen.

  



End file.
